


I Dub Thee

by abstractsta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Blasphemy, Blow Jobs, Demon!Dean, Desecration of religious items, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Please read notes, Priest!Castiel, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Total AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractsta/pseuds/abstractsta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Devout Father Castiel's private chat with Christ is interrupted by a late night visitor. Yes, this is just porn with dubious elements. Very little plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Dub Thee

**Author's Note:**

> The story starts as non-con, evolves into reluctant consent, and reaches a point where there is no question about consent at all. I hope that clarifies the tags a bit.
> 
> Mustum is non-alcoholic wine that is used by priests who have problems with alcohol. 
> 
> The Latin in this is just Dean repeating what Castiel said.
> 
> Dean in this story has nothing to do with him becoming a demon in the show. This is a total and complete AU.

The darkness of the small church, softly illuminated by the rows of candles burning bright, offered Father Castiel the solace he had been so desperately running for, his hands trembling and his throat dry, when he’d poured the communion wine in the chalice.

His prayer, these soothingly familiar rites, rushed almost unconsciously off his tongue as he spoke with God, breaking the bread, once again fervently pledging his allegiance to that which was Holy.

" _Thanks be to God._ " The priest was but a sharp shadow against the backdrop, kneeling on the white altar, his voice heard only by Christ and himself, so when the slow clap coming from the front doors echoed and reverberated through the air, Father Castiel grasped his rosary tight, his eyes blown wide in startlement.

“Fantastic performance, Father,” the late night visitor drawled, nonchalantly ambling between the rows of pews towards the altar. “It never gets old, like all the decent old plays, but this,” the unassuming looking man, dressed in a plaid red-and-green shirt and jeans, stopped, leaving a good few feet between himself and Castiel. “This one doesn’t even need good actors to be entertaining.” The man cast his eyes from where he had been staring at the crucifix on the wall, to Castiel’s, giving him an appraising look. “But it never hurts to have the thespian be absolutely gorgeous.”

Father Castiel, slightly disoriented by having been thrown into the situation so far removed from his thoughts only moments ago, made to get up to greet the stranger properly, and fell flat at the attempt, as the newcomer’s eyes clouded with blackness darker than the night.

“Our Father who art in Heaven, “ Castiel scrambled backwards to get away from the abomination, only to be stopped by the altar, pinned in place by the demon’s black eyes.

“Aww, you want your security blanket, that’s so _cute_!” The demon leaned down to Castiel’s eye level, his hands pressed between his knees as if talking with a toddler. “I think I know this one,” the demon announced thoughtfully, lifting a finger to his lips, and grinned. “ _Pater noster, qui es in cœlis_!” his voice boomed as he righted himself and flung his arms out, tossing his head back with a delighted expression.

Castiel squeezed the rosary in his fist tighter,  his mind reeling, unaware of the pain in his palm as the sharp edges of the small cross dug into his flesh. “Hallowed be thy name,” he managed after swallowing laboriously, unable to move, powerless to even tear his eyes from the mock-mirroring of the Christ before him. Castiel clamped on that thought, that Christ was on his side, and clambered to his feet.

“The name’s _Dean_ , by the way,” the demon snapped his head up and winked. “Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.” He folded his arms across his chest, his stance relaxed with the air of a man in no hurry, as if just waiting for the priest to continue.

After a moment of silence from Castiel, Dean actually motioned to that effect, his brow furrowing, and Castiel found his voice again; “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” he hastened to add, and was halted once more when the thing calling himself Dean cleared his throat and interrupted.

“ _Adveniat regnum tuum, fiat voluntas tua_ , very good, Father,” Dean’s voice was molten with approval, his face grotesquely beautiful with a gentle smile. “Now, go on, handsome, I can’t _wait_ to get to the good part.”

“On earth as it is in heaven.” Castiel’s voice trembled, gone unheard if not for the acoustics of the church. But his eyes never left Dean’s. “Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses.”

Somewhere in the back of Castiel’s mind, was a horrendous seed of a thought, climbing its way through nothingness and into awareness, taking root and growing like a weed, as divine intervention left wanting. No matter how hard the priest clung to his faith, the demon stayed.

Dean, like a mind reader, only smirked, the crinkling of the corners of his eyes catching Castiel’s attention.

“As we forgive those who trespass against us.”  Castiel frowned when the demon perked up, finger poised like he was conducting an orchestra towards a magnificent crescendo.

“And lead us not into temptation?” Try as he might, Castiel could not keep the hesitant lilt of a question out of the verse.

With a start, when Dean poked the air to punctuate an apparently important point, Castiel realized he wasn’t petrified with fear anymore. In fact, he felt more confused, and frankly, more than slightly irritated. “But deliver us from evil,” he finished, more out of spite than anything resembling faith, and straightened his back. “What are you doing in a house of God?”

Dean’s smirk transformed to a full-fledged, face-splitting grin as he bent forth, hands tucked in his jeans pockets. “I’m here to lead you into temptation, baby, so be a good priest and turn around so we can get this party started.”

“I am not going to do your bidding, demon,” Castiel bit through his teeth, determined to hold his ground. There was nothing this creature could offer that would sway him, not after all this time he’d spent ridding himself of his vices.

“ _Dean_. I thought we already established that. Now, you’re telling me you’re not going to roll over for your master?” Dean’s brow shot up incredulously. “Is it because of my heritage? you’re too good for me? I bet if I were an _angel_ , you’d be doing all kinds of tricks for me.” The demon took a firm hold of the back of Castiel’s neck, and pulled him to sit upright. “You’re going to do as you’re told, and you’re going to love it, so help me God,” the abomination smiled pleasantly at Castiel’s wide eyes. “Get on all fours so that I can look at you properly.” Dean let go his grip with a slight push, the promise of pain unspoken if Castiel disobeyed.

Slowly, Castiel gathered his knees under him and turned so that he was facing the altar, palms firmly planted to the floor. He bit his lip and scrunched his eyes closed, willing this to be a nightmare.

The hands coming up to unbuckle his belt sent that hope spinning, and it was mere seconds before Castiel had his bare ass in the air, his jeans and underwear puled to his knees, and his tab shirt rucked up to his shoulders. Castiel let out a breath that sounded more like a sob and hung his head, his heart beating a tachycardic tattoo, and his next breath more a gulp of air than anything. He didn’t resist when the demon pushed a hot hand against the small of his back, essentially dipping Castiel in a position there he was offering himself for anyone who might be willing to take the offer.

“Beautiful,” Dean announced, sliding his fingers through Castiel’s hair almost soothingly, before stepping back to admire the view from a different angle.

Dean, obviously intending to leave Castiel guessing what was to come next, took the scarce couple steps forward and bent over Castiel to grab the chalice, lifting it under his nose and swirling it around like fine wine, Castiel’s eyes glued to his every movement the beast he could. “Ahh, mustum,” Dean sighed, eyes closing in delight. “Oh, the fresh smell of young grapes. Makes my mouth water with your barely resisted desires.” He set the chalice aside, and crouched behind Castiel, licking a long swipe along the crease of his ass. “ _Mmm_ … I can taste it on you. Delicious. The lure of…” He kneeled and pressed his face against Castiel’s vulnerable skin and inhaled deeply, humming on the exhale.  “The delectable lure of the forbidden, the call of the bliss of oblivion.” The demon tilted his head, curious. “Did the abyss look back?”

Castiel held his breath, eyes closed, pretending he didn’t feel the demon so tantalizingly close to his most vulnerable parts , and let the air out in a burst as Dean’s attention derived; “What’s this?”

Castiel must’ve moved, twitch his hand, something, that caused Dean to investigate.

“That’s cute. Clutching your pearls?” Dean brushed Castiel’s side in passing, when he went to open Castiel’s hand and took the rosary he’d been holding for dear life. He released the beads with very little struggle, afraid to say anything, mind searching for words that might dissuade Dean. Nothing came forth.

“I think I can find a better use for these,” Dean cooed, dangling the rosary so that it caressed Castiel all the way to the small of his back, further. When Dean flicked the beads against Castiel’s hole, he gasped, despite himself.

“You’re right,” Dean reached for the chalice again. “I’ll even be good and lube them up for you, sweetheart. Make it good for you.”

The cajoling, deep voice sent a shiver down Castiel’s spine. He could only swallow and cast his eyes away from the sight of Dean dipping the rosary in the chalice. It did little to take away the sensation of the wine dripping on his back, when Dean teasingly moved back behind the priest.

Castiel felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, making him feel hot, thoughts skittering between pleading and begging, desperate, and for a blink of an eye, he didn’t know what he was desperate for.

Castiel’s stomach muscles cramped painfully as his hole clenched at the first touch of Dean’s fingers. Sweat started to gather on his forehead, and he could practically feel Dean’s black eyes roaming over his ass, his concentration pinpointing to an almost tangible push. Horrified of how it was pleasure making his belly flood with heat, Castiel finally found the words that had been just out of his reach.

“I renounce Satan and his works and his pomps,” Castiel recited feverishly as he felt the rosary beads being pushed inside him, his cock twitching keenly, his hands in tight fists, empty, but for the phantom ache of the small cross pressing into his skin. He gritted his teeth against a helpless whimper, as Dean worked more of the beads in together with his finger and held it there.

“Oh, come on, Cas,” Dean fucked his finger in Castiel slowly, intentionally rolling the beads, carefully making sure that every back and forth graced the priest’s prostate, drawing a shudder out of him. “None of that now. You’re making me think you don’t like me.”

 “And his worship and his angels and his inventions and all things that are under him!” Castiel’s gasps echoed in the church, his mind gone to find safety, to escape the vile pleasure coursing through him, his biology forcing his body to enjoy the demon’s ministrations like it was made for this.

“If it’s baptism you want, that can easily be arranged. I got all the makings _right here_ ,” His grin audible, Dean brushed his front to Castiel’s hip, lingering long enough to make sure Castiel was aware of Dean’s hardness.

The seductive tone of Dean’s voice coiled hotly in Castiel’s loins, and he let out a sob when he felt his cock fill to aching, an anguished sound while his own flesh betrayed him. Squeezing his eyes shut did nothing to stop the yearning moan when Dean worked in another finger, adding to the pleasantly throbbing sensation of being stretched open. Precome dropped from the slit of his cock like so many tears when the small beads were pushed down harder.

“You love this, don’t you Cas?” Dean sounded out of breath. “Tell me, Father, is this why you became a priest? To run away from this?” Dean’s words were punctuated with little licks just above his fingers, his words puffing against the slick skin accentuating the sensations, forcing Castiel to curve his back to get more of it.

Still, Castiel hung onto the small semblance of coherence; “I associate myself to Christ and believe and am baptized into one unbegotten being.”

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” Dean pushed in another finger, dry, but for the meagre droplets of mustum, but to Castiel it was perfect, causing him to start panting and push back reflexively.

 “Or better yet,” Dean moved flush against Castiel’s back, growling in his ear; “ _What if you were to find out that no one is listening_?”

Castiel made a desperate noise, enraged and aroused, confused and dazed. More than half out of his mind, yet more inspired than ever, Castiel pushed back to Dean’s fingers to get more, _more_ , and let go of his feeble, useless faith.

“You are.” The terse, forceful words were out of Castiel’s mouth without thinking, his body tense with anxious need, blood boiling, soul raw with abandonment and the futility of it all.

Castiel keened, furious and canting his hips as the torturously slow fucking stopped, leaving him hanging by a thread, while Dean stayed silent for a beat and grabbed Castiel’s hip to keep him still. His words were honey when they finally came; “I am.”

Castiel was unable to process the sheer astonishment in Dean’s voice when the demon reached around and curled his fingers around Castiel’s cock, smoothing his hand over the rigid flesh lightly, before tightening his hold, drawing all coherence out of the priest.

A few swift tugs, and Castiel was pushing into the hand and onto the fingers obediently, Dean whispering his approval in his ear. “That’s right, Cas, that’s good, and it’s going to get better. I promise.” He began to work his fingers in again, testing the give for a fourth, and with Castiel groaning at the feeling, relaxing under Dean’s touch, Dean pushed in with his blessing; “I’ll give you what you need, Castiel. Things you’ll learn not to live without. I will make you mine and free you.” Without another word, Dean sat back and laved his tongue around his fingers, leaving Castiel, shuddering, to moan a new prayer, a needy “ _Ah, ah, ah, ah_ ” of each thrust ringing through the church.

Chasing an elusive finish, Castiel babbled incoherently, begging, not God, but Dean, to let him, “please, just _let me!_ ” and with a blessed rub of the rosary, Dean’s tongue forcing its way to join his fingers and a wanton “ _Yes, yes, yes!_ ”, Castiel spilled his seed on the altar.

Castiel gasped, breathing in the air hanging heavy around him, the smell of his own sex permeating his nostrils, he let his head hang low briefly, Dean’s words echoing in his head.  He glanced over his shoulder at Dean, who was licking his thumb clean of Castiel’s semen.

Castiel chuckled, in spite of himself. He closed his eyes to listen to the pleasant hum within himself, the post-orgasmic satisfaction making him pliant and loose, but not immune to the sense of loss when Dean removed his fingers and the rosary slowly. What possessed Dean to run a soothing hand back and forth across Castiel’s back, he daren’t ask in case his words were a mere lure.

He opened his eyes again, and stared up at the crucifix behind the altar, where Jesus Christ hung as limply as Castiel how felt. He gathered himself slowly, sitting back on his legs. “So there really isn’t anyone.”

“Nope,” Dean said cheerfully, sitting down and adjusting his cock to lean back against the altar more comfortably. “Why do you think I’m still here? Why am I not,” Dean pointed towards himself, “uh, smote?”

“Why me?” Castiel drew his eyes to Dean slowly, rolling his shoulders to ease the ache of the unfamiliar tension from moments ago.

“I like you,” Dean said simply, shrugging, the black of his eyes flicking back to reveal color that was entirely human. _Green_. “I like you, and there’s this… _intensity_ about you that makes me want to climb you like a tree. You feel it too,” he gave Castiel a quirk of a smile. “You feel it _too_ ,” Dean waved a hand, gesturing between them. Dean paused and made a face, then turned serious. “You were clinging to your faith by the skin of your teeth, and that was my shining beacon, my siren call. _Irresistible_. My calling.” Dean held out a hand, beckoning Castiel to him. “But, Cas, really, it doesn’t hurt that you look like an angel carved in marble.”

Castiel had to laugh at that, his ravished state going unmentioned as he scooted towards Dean on his knees, holding his jeans up to his thigh with one hand, while the other found purchase on Dean’s. Kneeling in front of the demon, Castiel waited, his hands loosely in his lap, and his eyes instinctively downcast. They had unfinished business.

“You really want this.” It wasn’t a question, but there was wonder in the tone of Dean’s voice nonetheless.

“Yes.” Castiel fidgeted, uncertain only of if he’d misunderstood, if Dean really wasn’t offering what Castiel was willing to take. To give. To _be_.

Dean’s eyes turned black again, his palm pressing to his cock through his jeans, and he took a long breath through his nose. “Look at me, Cas.”

Castiel looked up obligingly, obediently holding Dean’s gaze as the green was swallowed by black again.

“Do you want this?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you understand what you’re doing?”

The reply didn’t waver even slightly. “I do.”

“You do this, and you will be mine.”

“I want it.” A fear tore through Castiel. What if this was a joke to Dean. What if Castiel was just something to toy with, and he would just up and leave, after only just giving Castiel a taste of what life could be. Who he could be. _Whose_ he could be.

Wordlessly, as if expecting Castiel to flee, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s, Dean unfastened his jeans and wiggled his hips to lower them, giving Castiel an eyeful on Dean’s engorged cock, the sight making his mouth water.

“You do this and it’s the last of your free will. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Castiel licked his lips, eager. “I understand.”

“With this unholy Eucharist,” Dean winked lewdly, “I dub thee mine.”

And Father Castiel swallowed, slick and smooth down his throat, so welcoming and so much more than the Eucharist of the Christ had ever been.

 ***

“You’re beautiful. ” the demon sighed as Castiel tucked in his shirt, lifting Castiel’s face by the chin to look at him, smiling softly, the candlelight casting gold on the black gleam of his eyes . “Christ can fuck off.”

Castiel, fully clothed again, with his eyes bright and wide, nodded.

With his head cradled in Dean’s gentle hands, he felt something having slotted into place where it had been always been askew, no matter the amount of his self-flagellation. Of how much he’d lain himself at God’s feet, crying, begging, praying, or drinking it away.

“Yours.” The word bloomed in Castiel, slow like molasses and tasting just as sweet—No. It tasted like _Dean_.

Letting go of Castiel’s chin, Dean lowered his hand to Castiel’s neck, sliding a finger under the white tab collar. Pulling it slightly, though leaving it in place, Dean looked thoughtful for a moment. “We’re going to find you a better one,” he flicked his eyes to Castiel’s. “Something more suitable for my Cas.”

Dean’s assertion of ownership set warmth spreading through Castiel’s limbs, leaving a certain light-headedness in its wake.

“You know, us demons have a habit of sealing deals with a kiss,” Dean’s hand curled behind Castiel’s head, pulling.  Castiel went willingly. For a brief moment, Castiel was trapped, body and soul, in a kiss so burning he knew he could feel it for days, and just as quickly he was released again, into freedom he hadn’t asked for and did not want. But the feeling was soon overridden when Dean pulled Castiel’s collar down and almost violently sucked a mark on his throat, a growl not quite human rumbling in his chest. “Something to tide you over,” Dean smirked, eyes green and crinkling in the corners as his fingers smoothed out the collar again.

Without another word, the demon stepped back and vanished like so much smoke in the wind.

The tang of their unholy marriage still lingering on his tongue, Castiel stared into the spot Dean had stood in, a private, content smile playing on his lips, his fingers toying with the beads of his rosary.  

The only words he could conjure were perhaps the most honest to ever pass his lips; “I surrender myself to thee, O Dean, to be ruled by thy precepts.”

A few seconds of hollow ache ripped through his chest at Dean’s absence, but it passed, and just as quickly he was overflowing with eager anticipation, when Father Castiel was rewarded with an answering disembodied chuckle, filled with dark promises.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is unbetaed. I'm sorry. Please feel free to leave a comment upon encountering a mistake or inconsistencies, so that I can fix it.


End file.
